


Fermis Paradox and Other Nonsense

by sparkysparky



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Getting Together, Getting high, Idiots in Love, M/M, Resolved Pining, new years fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28123179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkysparky/pseuds/sparkysparky
Summary: Steve has a realization about Billy during one of the Party's physics debates.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 9
Kudos: 128
Collections: Harringrove Holiday Exchange 2020, Mad Wet Rat Boy and Fluffy haired Doofus





	Fermis Paradox and Other Nonsense

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ihni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ihni/gifts).



> Ihni, I tried to get several of your prompts into this fic and I hope it works for you! This is my first proper Stranger Things fic, so I hope I did the characters justice.
> 
> Thank you to [Titti](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/pseuds/Titti) for the beta.

The debate has been going on for hours. It started out with Dustin bringing up some study the new science teacher at the high school had introduced, and how it proved some dumb theory of whatever. Steve has mostly checked out, content to lie on the couch with his head in Robin's lap while the rest of them are discussing various theories about life on other planets. He doesn't know why the nerds want to debate the likelihood of aliens; that just seems like inviting trouble. They don't need to add aliens to demogorgons and mind flayers.

Will isn't paying attention either; he's drawing in his sketchbook and Steve's noticed the tense line of his shoulders. He wants to do something to help, but he doesn't want to make a big deal of something that Will is obviously trying to downplay. Mostly it's been Dustin and Robin arguing against Lucas and Mike. Steve lost the thread of conversation about the same time that Max and Erika had called them all losers and escaped to the rec room to listen to records, pulling El with them.

"…Fermi's Paradox says that it's impossible for other life forms to exist," Dustin says, getting a nod of agreement from Robin. Steve notes that Lucas and Mike don't have anything to argue that with, because they're quiet and Mike's eyes have narrowed in annoyance. 

There's a snort from the one other person in the room who's been silent most of the night. Steve lifts his head and peers at Billy, who is at the other end of the couch. If Steve stretches his toes out, he could touch the side of Billy's thigh. The thought sticks in his mind, even as the rest of the Party turns their attention to Billy.

"You have something to add?" Mike asks. He can be snooty when he thinks someone doesn't get something. Steve is remarkably familiar with this tone. "Care to share why you disagree with Fermi?"

"Sure," Billy says, smirking at Mike before digging in his jeans pocket for a packet of cigarettes. Steve's eyes can't help but track the movement. Billy's jeans are obscenely tight; he doesn't even know how he can fit a pack of cigarettes in there, let alone his hand. "You're ignoring Drake's equation. You know, the one that shows that there's up to ten thousand or so planets that orbit the hundred or so billion stars in our galaxy that have technological civilizations."

There's silence from the Party. Even Will looks up from his sketchbook, pulled into the conversation by this apparently revolutionary addition. Mike looks at Billy, over to Dustin, back to Billy. Dustin, for his part, is studying Billy with apparent fascination. He looks over at Steve, brows raised.

"Dude, I totally get it now." Dustin says it in this knowing, amused tone that is obnoxious coming from a sixteen-year-old kid. Steve glares at him.

"Shut up, shit for brains," Steve says, sitting up entirely now. He's feeling exposed, but he doesn’t entirely know why. "I'm getting pie. You nerds can stay here and keep being nerds." It's not his most impressive exit, but he's smart enough to know when to run away.

See, the thing is, and Steve will be the first to admit it, he has a type. All the people he's ever fallen hard for have shared the same three traits. They're beautiful. They're terrifying. And they're brilliant. They all have something else in common too: they're too good for Steve, and ultimately leave him when they realize that. Robin says he thinks this way because of low self-esteem and latent abandonment issues, but she was high when she said that, and crying about Tammy Thompson again, so Steve thinks she's full of shit.

"Fuck," he mutters, leaning against the counter. He shoves his hand in his pocket, pulling out his own pack of cigarettes. He thought he was safe from his own insane desires. Billy is hot, beautiful even, and fuck knows he's terrifying, but brilliant? Steve didn't see that coming. "Fuck."

"You hiding, King Steve? Not very kingly of you."

Billy's voice makes him jump. He looks up, sending a half-hearted glare at the other man. "I haven't been King Steve in a very long time," he points out.

"Didn't hear you deny that you're hiding." Billy saunters – there's no other word for it – over to the fridge and helps himself to a beer. He tosses one to Steve. "Nerds too nerdy for you?"

"Yeah. I can only take so much of them tempting the universe," Steve says. That's true, even if it's not the _truth_. "You didn't seem to mind it."

Billy snorts. "Mostly I just wanted to see the look on Baby Wheeler's face. Kid's hilarious when he's not the smartest person in the room." He pops the cap off the beer, takes a long swallow. Steve tries not to stare at the ridiculous way Billy's lips look around the bottle. He's not that successful, but it doesn't seem like Billy notices.

"Didn't know you knew anything about physics," Steve says, though he's not sure that physics is the right topic; does physics cover alien civilizations? He doesn't remember that from high school. "Let alone enough to talk about paradoxes and equations."

Bill shrugs. "I grew up in California. Aliens are huge out there," he says. Steve doesn't know enough about it to call him on it, but he thinks Billy is downplaying his interest in alien-related physics.

"No offense to Drake or his equation, but I really hope this Hermes guy is right. The last thing I want to deal with is aliens." Steve says.

"Fermi. Italian physicist, creator of the world's first nuclear reactor, and noted alien skeptic. Hermes is the messenger to the Greek gods." 

It gets a laugh from Steve; the way Billy can't seem to stop himself from making the correction. "Right. It's definitely growing up in California that left you with this common knowledge of aliens and gods," Steve teases. He swears that it makes Billy flush, but it's probably just the lighting in the kitchen. There's a few bulbs out that he needs to replace and hasn't gotten around to yet.

"Shut up, Harrington," Billy says, but it lacks all the bite it would have had a year ago. Before Starcourt.

Still, it feels wrong for the moment. It's quiet in the kitchen, the voices from the living room, nothing but murmurs. With the burnt-out bulbs, the room feels even quieter, intimate. It makes Steve's stomach knot up.

"Steve."

"What?"

"You're standing in my kitchen, drinking my beer, on New Year's Eve. I think you can call me Steve."

Billy's quiet for a minute, drinking his beer. He's looking at Steve in this intense, penetrating way and Steve feels like he's naked down to the core. He feels like Billy can read everything about him, and he doesn't mind. The silence drags on a moment too long to be comfortable, but Steve bites his tongue to keep from filling it.

"Shut-up, Steve," Billy says, and Steve's knees go weak at the way his name sounds coming from Billy's mouth.

There's silence again, but this time Steve lets himself fill it. "They'll be wondering where the pie is," he says, waving vaguely in the direction of the living room.

"Let them wonder. They're too busy arguing over the existence of aliens to notice anything." Billy finishes his beer, sets the empty on the counter. "I've got something better than aliens to entertain us." He fishes in his jeans' pocket, the movement drawing Steve's eyes like a moth to a flame. He pulls out a baggie and some thin papers. "Up for it Har---Steve?"

Steve knows it's a bad idea. He hasn't gotten high in months and he's supposed to be the responsible adult here. Sure, the kids are sixteen now, almost seventeen, but it's still Steve's house and Steve's job to make sure no one does anything stupid. But Billy's grinning at him, challenging him almost, and Steve mentally decides _fuck it_. Robin's here and Nancy and Jonathan will show up before too long; they can be the responsible ones.

"Yeah, all right. Come on, we can't do it here," he says, because the last thing he wants right now is anyone walking in on them smoking a joint. He doesn't want to share. The weed, he amends. He doesn't want to share the weed. "My room. We can open the window."

They go up the backstairs, avoiding both the living room and the rec room and any questions from the occupants therein.

Steve's room is dark, but he doesn't turn on the overhead light opting instead for the desk lamp. It casts a dim glow around the room, just enough to chase away the shadows but not enough to disrupt the mood from the kitchen. When he turns around, Billy has already made himself at home on his bed. It makes Steve's brain short-circuit even though Billy's sitting with his back against the wall, legs hanging over the edge. He doesn't know if he'd have survived it if Billy was nestled back against the pillows. He's barely hanging on to his last brain cell as it is.

He hesitates for long enough for Billy to roll his eyes. "Come here, pretty boy. Can't share the joint with you on the other side of the goddamned room," he says, voice gruff.

"Fuck you," Steve says, but it's enough to get him moving. He settles on the bed beside Billy. Even though he has a full, not a twin, they're close enough their shoulders brush. It shouldn't make Steve feel as if electricity is shooting down his left side where they're touching, but it does. "Are you all talk, or you going to light the fucking joint?"

Billy smirks at him, then hands out the joint without a word. Steve takes it, and there's more electricity as their fingers slide together. Steve puts the joint to his mouth and leans towards Billy, who has a lighter out. It's intimate, electric—he needs to think of another word for this feeling—and something Billy could have done himself. He feels half-baked already, and he hasn't even inhaled yet. He does, and the joint flares to life. It's a quality blend; he might not have smoked for a year, but Steve knows his weed and this shit is prime. He holds the smoke in for a three count, then exhales slowly. Billy's eyes are intense on his as he hands the joint back.

"Where'd you get this? I know it wasn't from fucking Tommy," Steve says, after they've passed the joint between them a few times. He's all too aware that he's half-hard in his jeans from the idea of putting his mouth where Billy's has been, but the weed has mellowed him enough that he can ignore it easily enough. "Ew. Fucking Tommy."

"No, it wasn't from that asshole. I have a friend who supplies college preppies. Gave me a discount."

"You could be a college preppy," Steve says, eyes hooded as he looks at Billy. "Smart enough, pretty enough. "

Billy snorts. "Jesus, Steve. Half a joint and you're already high, aren't you?" He sounds fond, voice gravelly and warm, and Steve wants to wrap himself up in it forever.

It takes him a minute to realize that he'd said that out loud. He can feel his face heat-up and knows he's blushing. "Forget I said that."

Billy takes another hit, exhales, then pinches the end of the joint to put it out. He stretches enough to deposit it on Steve's nightstand. He has to reach across Steve to do it and when he pulls back, he doesn't move into his own space. Instead, he wraps a hand around the back of Steve's neck. "No, I don't think I will," he says, and guides their mouths together.

It's like being struck by lightning, Steve thinks, before his brain shorts out altogether and all he can do is kiss Billy back. Billy tastes like weed and beer and like something else entirely, something wild and earthy and _Billy_. Steve moans, he can't help it, and chases that taste by climbing into Billy's lap. He wants to get as close as he can, for as long as Billy lets him, and he really hopes this isn't just Billy being high and horny.

Billy lets out a snort of laughter, and Steve realizes he said that last bit out loud. He really has to start paying attention to what his mouth is saying. "Well, I'm just saying," he says defensively, but he doesn't move to get off Billy's lap and Billy doesn't seem to mind.

"Well, I am high and horny," Billy says, hands drifting lower so they're cupping Steve's ass. "But not _just_."

"Good, because I'd hate to have to mess this up by punching you in your pretty face," Steve says, then leans in and kisses Billy again. Billy kisses back, hands gripping tight enough to bruise if Steve wasn't wearing jeans. Steve sort of wants to take them off _right now_.

Billy has other ideas though and pulls back from the kiss. "We should go back down. Nerds'll look for us soon." He looks gorgeous; lips swollen and hair a wreck from where Steve's been running his hands through it.

"Are you fucking with me right now?" Steve's hard in his jeans and he can feel Billy's dick pressing against him.

"Don't be in such a hurry, pretty boy. I want to take my time with you, and I want to do it when there's no one around to hear you scream my name."

"Fuck, I hate you so much," Steve says, out of breath and dizzy with arousal at the thought. He knows Billy's right; he really doesn't want the kids to hear that, but there's a part of him that finds the idea of trying to stay silent while Billy fucks him hotter than anything. Not for their first time, though. "You'd better get your hands off my ass then."

Billy laughs again, then leans forward and bites Steve's throat without warning. It's not hard enough to break skin, or even leave a bruise, but it makes Steve whine high in his throat and thrust his hips down against Billy's dick. Billy pulls back, a smug look on his face.

"Asshole," Steve says, but he's laughing as he pulls himself away from Billy and struggles to his feet. His dick's still hard in his jeans and he's going to need a few minutes before he can walk without any issues. He looks at Billy, who's still on the bed and looking at him with those intense eyes again. Steve feels suddenly vulnerable and exposed. "What is this, Billy? What are we doing?"

Billy looks at him for a long time, then laughs a little. "I have no fucking idea, Steve. I just know that I've wanted you for a long time. Maybe from the beginning, but I was too fucked up to know that. I'm still fucked up, but so are you. Maybe we can just…be fucked up together for now. Do we need all the answers tonight?"

"No. I guess we don't," Steve says, and means it. They're both fucked up, but maybe they can be a little less fucked up together. "Come on. There's pie waiting, and I've got the munchies."

He holds his hand out for Billy and his breath while he waits for it to be taken. Billy doesn't hesitate; he reaches for Steve's hand and lets himself be pulled to his feet. Steve doesn't let go as they head back downstairs. He doesn't know what will happen next, but for now, that's okay.

**Author's Note:**

> The Fermi Paradox/Drake's Equation is pulled from an exhange between Hardison and Eliot on Leverage. I struggled to come up with something nerdy the Party could debate about, and saw a gifset on Tumblr so I borrowed it for here.


End file.
